


Self Defense

by Wylrin



Category: Rod Allbright Alien Adventures - Bruce Coville
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-29 06:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14467089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wylrin/pseuds/Wylrin
Summary: Tar Gibbons is concerned for the Ferkel's diplomat regarding her safety, so it endeavors to teach her a few means of self defense.





	Self Defense

It was something that concerned it. The Ferkel did not have a “weakest link” by any means, but Madame Pong was a diplomat, a creature of words. She was in no way designed to fight or defend herself, and that was something their enemies surely knew and would surely exploit. 

And exploit they did. 

Seeing their diplomat being held at gunpoint unleashed a sort of rage within it that it was not very familiar with. Warrior Science dictated that righteous anger should be used to fuel one's strength, but this type of rage went beyond that. It was nearly blinding. It took everything in its power to keep from succumbing to the hatred that coursed through it. 

They were ordered by their enemies to drop their weapons, but little did their adversaries know that its very body was a lethal weapon just waiting to be unsheathed. The moment an opportunity came, Tar Gibbons unleashed a torrent of warrior prowess that left their enemies battered and broken. Such details hardly mattered to the Tar. Madame Pong and the rest of the crew was safe. That was all that mattered.

Evidently, such was not so. 

Captain Grakker had to have a talk with it about its... _ferocity_. Even criminals didn't deserve the beating the Tar had doled out that day. Despite the slight disciplinary action that had to take place afterwards, it was still merely glad that the entirety of the crew of the Ferkel was safe. That _she_ was safe. 

It was still unnerved even when the criminals had been brought to Alpha Centauri to face justice. It could not stand to bear the thought of their beloved diplomat at the end of any sort of weapon, not on its watch. So it approached her one night when the Captain and the others had returned to their quarters for the sleeping period. 

“Madame.”

She made one of her polite little bows. “Tar Gibbons. Is there something you wanted to discuss?”

It nodded. “Yes. I believe it is a matter of the utmost urgency.”

She nodded. “Please, then, come with me.”

It followed her to the conference room where they could sit down and talk more comfortably. Folding its hands in front of it out on the table, it cut right to the chase, “Would you consider carrying a ray gun with you on your person?”

She seemed surprised by the suggestion. “Why would I?”

“For your protection,” it answered, a bit confused by her question. “So you cannot so easily be taken hostage and used as a bargaining piece.”

Of all the things it expected her to do, smiling sweetly at it was not one of them. “You realize that I am a diplomat. It is my duty to bring about the trust and cooperation of others. This can hardly be achieved when the diplomat issuing these words of peace is armed herself. Do you understand?”

It hadn't thought of that. Lowering its head, it said, “Of course. I did not realize what the implications of a diplomat carrying a weapon would be.”

“You were concerned for my safety. I must thank you for being so considerate. But no. I cannot and will not carry a weapon so long as I am a diplomatic officer on this ship,” she told it gently but firmly.

That was that, then. Bowing its head, it told her, “Of course. I will leave you now, then.”

“Goodnight, Tar Gibbons.”

“Goodnight, Madame.”

\- - - 

It did not speak of means of protecting the diplomat for several days after that meeting in the conference room. It simply focused on its duties as a master of the martial arts. Being the closest thing the Ferkel had to security, the Tar felt that it was its responsibility to ensure the safety of everyone on board. It would find a way to ensure her safety, that much was certain.

So Madame Pong would come to find the farfel standing at her door one night, asking simply, “May I come in?”

“Of course,” was her immediate reply. As they sat down and got comfortable, she ventured, “I suppose you're here to convince me to carry with me some means of defending myself?”

It was momentarily startled by her acute sense of what it was about to say, before answering thusly, “Yes, though I have found a way in which you would not have to carry a weapon on your person.”

“And what do you propose?” she asked. 

“Allow me to teach you some skills that would aid you in a fight,” it said. “An open hand can prove to be just as deadly as a dagger, if used properly. Let me teach you some self defense.”

“You're very serious about this, aren't you?”

It nodded. “Yes.”

Spreading her hands, she told it, “I have no intention of harming anyone.”

“Nor do I, yet I prepare myself for the moment I must inflict some form of harm in order to protect.”

She smiled. “I am hardly a warrior.”

“You don't have to be a warrior to be prepared for the worst,” said the Tar. Tilting its head at her, it asked, nearly pleading, “Will you allow me to teach you? Just a few simple techniques?”

The madame sighed. “If you must.”

“I must.”

\- - - 

“Break out of my grasp, if you can.”

They were standing in the training room, the Tar holding Madame Pong with her hands behind her back, trying to teach her how to break out of its grip. She twisted in its arms, but did not test its ability to keep its hold on her. She eventually came to a stop, her arms going limp in its grasp.

“Come now. Try to break free,” it coaxed.

“I don't want to hurt you,” she said, her words drenched in worry. 

“You can't, don't worry.”

Shooting it a glace that seemed to say, _Oh really?_ , she twisted a certain way that made it painful for it to maintain its hold on her. But still it would not let go. 

“Let go of me, I don't want to hurt you,” she repeated her earlier concern. 

“Don't worry about me. This is about teaching you how to defend yourself,” it insisted. “Go on. _Make me_ let you go.”

So she did. She twisted suddenly in a way that made it too painful and threatened to snap bone should it keep its hold on her. Letting her go, it said, “Well done,” before lunging at her.

She let out a startled cry that almost made it pause in its tracks, but it kept going so that it was hurtling straight at her. Madame Pong managed to duck out of the way, but only just. She took a moment to untangle her robes.

“I am hardly dressed for this!” she called. “Perhaps I should wear something else to these sessions.”

“Unless you intend to change your attire permanently, I would suggest you practice in the clothes you are most likely to be caught in,” it said. 

While it made sense to her, she hardly appreciated trying to quickly maneuver about in such clothes. She was meant to be a conversationalist, not a fighter. But the Tar's concerns were valid, so she kept going. 

Grabbing her from behind and clapping a hand over her mouth, it said, “What should you do?”

The muffled sound of murmuring sounded from behind its palm. It shook its head. “Show me.”

She shook her head as much as she was able in her current position. 

Sighing, it said, “It's alright. _Bite_ me. I am giving you permission.”

There was a few more moments of hesitation before it felt her teeth sinking into its hand. “Harder than that,” it advised. “Make me let you go.”

With a huff, she tightened her jaw, digging her teeth into the flesh of its hand with a brutality she hadn't known she was capable of, nor was she particularly fond of. When the Tar finally let her go, she insisted, “That's enough for now, please.”

It looked as if it were about to argue, but then it agreed, saying, “Of course. Same time tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

\- - - 

So they continued to practice, their sessions becoming a regular occurrence. She was reluctant to do anything to hurt her companion, and that held her back and kept her from doing what she needed to in order to escape its hold. 

“If you cannot hurt me in a controlled setting, you are not going to be able to hurt someone else in an uncontrolled setting,” it warned her. 

“I do not want to hurt anyone,” she reiterated. 

“But others want to bring harm to _you_ ,” it reminded her. “You want to be able to protect yourself should the situation require it, do you not?”

She smiled. “I think you and all the others are more than capable of protecting me.”

“Are we?” the Tar asked, picturing the scene of the diplomat being held at gunpoint in its mind. It banished the thought. 

“I think you do not give yourself enough credit,” the madame said warmly. 

“Perhaps you give me too much,” it returned. “I simply do not want to see you harmed.”

“And for that, I am most grateful,” Madame Pong told it sincerely. Thinking for a few moments, she continued, “Should the time come where the skills of a warrior are needed, I shall do my best to fill the role.”

“But only if necessary,” stressed the Tar. “I am not trying to turn you into something you are not. If danger can be avoided, then I would highly recommend fleeing instead of fighting.” Pausing to consider something, he added, “Perhaps I have been going about this the wrong way. Instead of teaching you how to fight, perhaps I should be teaching you how to _run away_.”

“And abandon my shipmates?” she asked, sounding concerned.

“I would rather see you run than get caught up in the middle of a fight,” it told her. Hesitating a moment, as if to bring up a sensitive subject, it asked, “You _can_ run in those robes, can't you?”

The diplomat laughed. “I can run quite fast in these robes. You have simply never seen me do it.”

“Oh?” asked the Tar, sounding surprised. “And what ever were you running from?”

“Trailing wortmungle,” she explained. “A rather large one at that.”

“If you can run from a wortmungle, I would dare say you could run from anything. But the question remains: Will you?”

She smiled at it. “If I am in any danger, I promise you, I will try my best to keep safe.”

It nodded. “That is all I ask.”

\- - -

The Tar was in the training room when their enemies—a small band of criminals they were to bring in to face justice—beamed aboard their ship. In that moment all it could think was that it needed to get to the bridge. 

Fighting its way past a few marauders that scoured the halls of the ship, it quickly came upon its destination, only to find that the enemy had taken control of the command center. A quick glance about showed that Madame Pong was nowhere in sight. Good. She was out of danger.

Perhaps charging straight into combat was not the wisest decision it had ever made, but it had the element of surprise, and Warrior Science dictated that one should use that to their advantage. In a flurry of kicks, it had downed one opponent, only for another to take a shot at it with a ray gun. The beam shot through its shoulder, effectively putting it to a stop. Another beam shot through its side, assuring that it would make no further move to attack.

The ray gun was aimed straight for its torso, and Tar Gibbons thought that perhaps this was its end, when another stray of ray cut through the room and shot the marauder in the back. As the limp, unconscious body fell to the ground, it revealed behind them the form of the one responsible. 

“Madame?” it asked, somewhat taken aback. 

Offering her hand to it to help it to its feet, she asked with a coy smile on her face, “Surprised?”

“I thought it would be unseemly of you to carry a weapon,” it said as it, with Madame Pong's help, hauled itself to its feet shakily. 

“Oh, I wasn't carrying it on my person. I found it on one of the bandits I incapacitated not long ago.”

Its eyes went wide, obviously shocked by the diplomat's accomplishment. 

“Perhaps, Madame,” it began, “we should spar together some day.”

She laughed. “And reveal all this diplomat can do? I think I will pass.”


End file.
